Small Bus Problems and Solutions…
It was John Lennon who said, Life is what happens to you, while you’re busy making other plans. Life happened to my Nashville plan.
I had planned to leave San Francisco on March 1st. I gave up my apartment, sold stuff, donated stuff said my goodbyes and moved into my 80’ feet of Bubba the Bus. March 1st rolled around and my friend, Derek, who helped me immeasurably on this final stretch, told me, that I had a leak under the bus. I fired him up, got out, looked and there it was; a sieve-like leak. I crawled under, touched the liquid and discovered it was gasoline. Bubba only gets 11 miles to the gallon. I can’t imagine how much he would get with gasoline dripping from him. I re-parked him and thanked the Universe that this little malfunction happened here in San Francisco, as opposed to somewhere on the road.
I called my friend John, who is a car man extraordinaire. We determined that it was either the fuel filter–(fortunately attached to the frame, or a fuel line–(one comes in and one goes out of the fuel filter). If it is either of those things, it is not a difficult repair.
We went to Kragen, gave them the vehicle information and the photo I had snapped; and waited and waited and waited some more, while they tried to decipher what part it actually was. Finally, John did some research himself and advised them that it is a ‘single-tank-fuel filter reservoir’; which they had not only never heard of, but, it doesn’t exist in their catalog.
We went back to the bus and decided to try an experiment. We cleared the lines, got some liquid steel and patched the reservoir cap, where we thought/hoped the leak was.
The next morning, I fired Bubba up again. The leak remained, which suggests that the leak is actually a fuel line. When I went to start Bubba again, his battery was dead. The backdoor had been ajar and drained it. Just then, my friend Damo, cruised by and gave me a quick jump.
My first night of sleeping in my bus, by myself, would be March 1st, 2020–and I would sleep on a San Francisco street in my neighborhood. I’m not going to lie–I had some nerves surrounding the experience; conversations with my mind monkey; I’m homeless! I am living in a bus! What if someone tries to break in? What was I thinking? I stepped back, took a deep breath and reminded myself, of the reasons I had decided to do this; live in a tiny bus/move to Nashville/travel the country/etc… Reasons come first…answers come second.
After I got settled in my bus bed, snuggled under my beautiful down comforter, feeling toasty and warm–I was overcome with a sense of accomplishment and contentment.
I looked around at all the lovely things that surrounded me; friends well-wishes written on my bus wall, spoons from travels near and far, the Buddha figurine that I brought from Holland, the Hope Chest–given to me by my mother over 40 years ago–that I revamped into a bench/coat storage; the yellowed and crumpled book, Illusions by Richard Bach, given to me in the Australian Bush; the first arrowhead I ever found on Indian land; feathers left for me in the seventies from my first pet–a peacock who, I named Pretty Boy because it seemed evident that he was not only the most beautiful thing on Indian land but the one thing that could exist without a defined purpose, other than being beautiful; the blue lapis I brought from Alabama this summer and all the lovely friends and faces it conjures up and soon I fell asleep under a streetlamp in my new little home, a tiny bus named Bubba.
Today, as I wait for John to teach me how to change a fuel line–I can’t help but be glad for the delay. I had an opportunity to connect with a friend, I would have otherwise missed saying goodbye to in person; I got to test out sleeping in my bus–and had the chance to re-organize in a place where I am surrounded by friends; I realized that I had no jumper cables in my road kit and I get to learn something more about car repair–which I always love.
I love how life has a way of working out, how the Universe continually provides for all my needs–in the most unexpected and beautiful ways. To steal the words from a little book called Illusions, that sits on my new little bus shelf; “imagine the Universe beautiful, just and perfect. Then be sure of one thing: the IS has imagined it quite a bit better than you have.”